


If You Let Me Show You How

by LaraWrites



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Dominance, F/M, Fear, Magic, Master/Slave, Slavery, Teacher-Student Relationship, Threats, based on canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-25 20:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12540476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaraWrites/pseuds/LaraWrites
Summary: Alternate Universe where Regina decides she doesn't want to learn magic- she doesn't want to end up like Cora- so she turns down Rumplestiltskin's offer. As a result he abducts her to be his domestic help (in place of Belle). Tags will be updated as fic is updated, Golden Queen with tension throughout.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a scene from Season 2 Episode 2 'We are both"

He watches her canter slowly forward on her horse and once again wonders if he’s got the right girl. She moves slowly, cautiously, not the carefree riotous youth he had been expecting. She’s too soft; too sweet. Too gentle. She doesn’t want to harm people, she doesn’t want to cause pain. Even the death of her stable boy hadn’t jolted her into action. He watches her look around and reach down to stroke her steed softly, a grin spread across her face at the thought of freedom.

She could be the one, but not without stimuli. She wouldn’t be fulfilling any prophecies with a smile on her face and hope in her heart. She couldn’t do anything until she was broken, and she wouldn’t break if she escaped.

Which, he reminded himself, was why he had come here after all. To stop her. He knew he could- his abilities of manipulation were never in question, he could convince her to stay without words if he wanted to- but he kept reminding himself why he was doing it. Why, when he had several deals to make, he was devoting so much time to the queen-to-be.

Cora was out of his hair for the first time in years. For so long he had acted cautiously, careful not to cross her path. He wasn’t afraid of her- dear gods no, he had no reason to fear that woman with her carelessly stark brand of magic. He didn’t want to see her, he didn’t want to speak to her. In short, he wanted to pretend she didn’t exist; that she had never existed. He denied ever having anything to do with her and left her to her pathetically ambitious life.

 _Power_ he reasoned, _is less suited to the heartless. Or to peasants._

For that was what she was, undoubtedly. You could marry whomever you wanted and fuck whomever you wanted but once a peasant, always a peasant. Cora drowned herself in grandeur but she could never smother her upbringing- could never fully shake off the general ambience of burlap sacking and flour clouds.

Her daughter on the other hand…

Regina held herself like a queen. You couldn’t tell by looking at her that her posture had been gained from years of extensive child abuse, but since when has The Dark One cared about abusing children? She was no stranger to fear, that much he could tell. Fortunately it would only serve to make his job slightly easier.

Before she had the chance to get too far away he stopped her, appearing right in her way with his hands folded in front of him, a testy grin in place on his face.  
“Leaving are we?” He observes her analytically as she swings down off her horse to approach him- he senses her heart rate pick up; she’s slightly afraid of him although she’s unwilling to admit it to even herself. He can sense it though as she approaches, reaching into her bag to produce the spell book.  
_Interesting_ he thought, _she expected to see me._

“Here,” She said, her voice soft. “A gift,” She offers him the book and he notices her hands are shaking slightly, and it’s not due to the cold. “I don’t want it,”  
“It can’t be a gift,” He reprimands “It was mine to start with,” He’s taunting her and he watches the affects as she turns back to her horse, uncomfortable and desperate to leave yet something in her wants to find a reason to continue their conversation. He grants her this small mercy at least.

“Before you go,” He calls in a mocking voice, stopping her in her tracks. He stalks forward slowly and she tenses before turning. “Answer me this,” She looks him in the eye and waits for the question. “How did it feel?”

She’s taken aback, they both know this was not what she was expecting. Since their first meeting Regina had quite obviously gathered more information about him and discovered who he was; The Dark One, the most powerful wielder of magic feared by all. Even now he can sense in her trepidation, at war with the respect she has for someone completely in control of their own life. He knows he both intrigues and terrifies her and right now she’s wondering why the Dark One is showing such an avid interest in her life.

“I loved my mother-”  
“-Ut ut ut that’s not what I asked, dearie” He holds up a finger and she draws away slightly, almost a flinch. It makes him smile. “How did it feel… to use magic?” His voice is so quiet she has to lean closer to hear him and he can feel the raw magical potential flowing from her. He can sense the strong, powerful emotions and underlying turmoil and it serves as a reminder of why he’s there, talking to a girl that can’t conjure a feather.

“D-doesn’t matter, I’ll never use it again,” She replies quickly, once again moving to turn away and he has to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her by the throat to get her to stand still and answer the goddamn question.  
“Why not?” He’s testing her, and he knows it when she stares at the ground and fights herself. Does she lie to him? Can she dare? It seems not because she turns to him with all the passion in her eyes that he had previously sensed.  
“Because I loved it,”

Her admission, at war constantly with her need to be as far from her mother as she possibly can, excites him; excites him until he can’t help the noise that escapes his mouth. _This is why she’s the one_ he thinks as her eyes burn into his, full of curiosity and longing and passion and daring and lust and fear and undiluted rage. It was quite intoxicating.

“You’ve discovered who you are. You can do so much now… _If you let me show you how_ ,” His singing bothers her, she draws back even as every bone in her body screams for her to move forward, to grab him and never let go until she is more powerful than her mother ever dreamed of being. She holds his gaze, even as her knees start to tremble slightly.  
“Through magic?” She whispers, her voice anxious and uncertain. He resists the urge to look her up and down as he envisions it; teaching her and coaching her and testing her and fucking her and breaking her heart again and again and again.  
“Through many things”

She leans in closer, so close he can taste the innocence on her breathe as she asks, “And what do you get out of it?” Her insolence is potent, it calls to him and he wants to punish and reward her all at the same time for speaking out. He wonders how much to tell her, before deciding to hell with it- she is certainly the one and her fate is already sealed so why not tell her? He’s given prophecies before and nothing is quite as efficient at turning people mad- except maybe torture.

“Someday, you’ll do something for me.” She moves away from him, afraid and confused and regretting her moment of bravery. He offers her the book. “Let me guide you,”. Her gaze travels from his eyes to the spell book while she fights with her inner demons. Her hand rests on the book and he’s not really sure if she’s trying to grab it or push it away but he keeps a tight grip on it anyway as her eyes darken and her voice lowers and her inhibitions reveal themselves in a single question.

“And I won’t become like… _her_?”

He glimpses into her future and sees pain, torture, hate. He sees her hunt for power and sees her cruelty and senses conflict with a child, but he merely raises an eyebrow.  
“That, dearie, is entirely up to you,” He pushes the book into her hands. She accepts it and looks him up and down, and he realises that this is it. He has succeeded in ensnaring his most important pupil to date. He has convinced her to stay, to remain trapped in a life that will shortly become a living hell.

Success is always sweet, no matter how often it occurs.

Then his mood plunges as she pushes the book back into his arms.  
“I- I can’t,” She says shortly, turning on heel before he has a chance to catch himself. He’s so shocked by her open act of defiance that it takes him a moment to react, and it is with despair that he realises the moment for persuasion has gone, and he has failed.

The thought makes his blood boil.

With no more than a flicker off his eye she is thrown back of the horse she recently mounted and onto the muddy floor- she cries out as she thuds onto the ground but he barely listens to her as he takes two strides towards her and struggles to disguise the rage in his voice.

“Think carefully about this, Regina,” He says darkly. “This proposal is an honour and should not be carelessly cast asunder,” Despite her pain- she has obviously bruised herself quite severely by landing on her side, he thinks she may have broken a few ribs- and his threatening figure looming over her she shakes her head, her voice catching on a sob as pain and fear mingle.

“No I- I just can’t. I don’t want magic; I don’t need magic,”

This is not good. This is really not good. He crouches down, still imposing as he reaches out and seizes her chin in his hands, forcing her flickering, watery eyes to his burning ones.  
“Last chance,” He whispers. “Join me, or I swear I will make you regret this,” This time she doesn’t reply but as she stares into his eyes he knows she will not be swayed; he shouldn’t have thrown her from her horse, that momentary lapse of control had cost him. She wouldn’t consent to learning magic, not when it held so many bad memories for her.

Consent, however, was not something he really bothered with.

He leans in so close her panicked heaving breaths land on his face and he can taste the fear in them. He feels her heart quicken as he looks her up and down greedily, finally resting on her eyes.  
“Mark my words Regina,” He growls, and the ghost of a whimper leaves her as his hands drop from her chin to around her neck. “You will regret this,”

And just as soon as he had arrived, he disappeared from her vision.

He watched her let out the sob she had been holding in in front of him as she drew her knees in and curled up. He was sure that had he stayed for another ten minutes, another ten hours, she would have held in her tears with ease. He was quite sure that if he made himself visible to her once more she would instantly stop her crying and gear up to fight. He was almost tempted to test his theory, but as she sniffed and picked her head up out of her arms he decided it was more important that she live in fear, expecting his revenge to strike at any moment.

She lifted herself off the ground, her hands moving to her throat and lingering where his had been, wrapped around her neck. She seemed to pull herself together as she clambered back onto her horse.  
“Jokes on you, Rumple _shtil_ skin” She murmured to herself, moving forward at a gentle canter. “I’ll be long gone by this evening,”

She moved on but Rumple didn’t follow; he knew he wouldn’t have to. Before she was even out of his vision she was lifted very suddenly by vines sprouting from unknown trees which dragged her, kicking and screaming, back to the very spot where she had turned him down. Her horse followed her dutifully as she clambered to her feet; her heart racing as her eyes darted around, searching for the culprit. It took her an unusually long to realise that she was alone (Not alone of course, because he was still there watching her) and she mounted her steed once more.

At the same spot she was seized and dragged back, but it took one more time for her to realise what was going on. Her eyes widened in horror and she let out a wail of despair, cursing his name as she realised he had trapped her there. That in denying him she had sealed her fate, and the freedom she had gained by obeying him had now left her the second she had defied him. After all, it wasn’t in his best interest to have her running away and roaming free. She fell to the floor and sobbed and screamed and cursed his name over and over until the King’s guard found her and ‘escorted’ her back to the castle.

And Rumplestiltskin just smiled.


	2. Something a Bit More 'Special'

Deals were always his speciality.

Loopholes were his hobby; clauses his passion. Occasionally, when he found he had nothing better to do he would visit a strange land and make deals with the unsuspecting locals- always leaving with a profit. It was how he made a name for himself, after all.

He knew he would have her, but it wasn’t enough to just take her. It didn’t satisfy him; the thought of sneaking in during the night and stealing her away from her husband-to-be, leaving them wondering where she had gone. They would probably assume she had run away and eventually forget all about her. No, it wasn’t good enough for him to take her because he wanted her. He needed the king on his knees, _begging_ him to take her away. He needed them to feel his triumph; the bitter sting at the loss of the beautiful young bride.

So he listened to them talk- of the war and their losing. He made sure they were losing, of course, before he had come. He watched them patter about the room, standing behind the ornate chair they had placed Regina on. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why she was there. The king would never trust a woman to impart military advice but she seemed to offer him no comfort, sitting away from the men and staring at the door (Rumple knew she was dreaming of escape. Of running out of the door so fast that none of his guards could catch her and somehow making it past the wards he had concocted to keep her in)

In reality he knew that she probably served as an ornament; the king was so impressed with his young bride he was bringing her along with him everywhere just to show her off. Or he didn’t trust her to be out of his sight. For whatever reason, anyway, she was sitting in a chair staring off into the distance, unable to see Rumplestiltskin standing just inches behind her.

He reached out a hand and hovered it over her shoulder, before being pulled back into the conversation by the men.

“There is nothing for it,” Leopold said. “We’re losing; we’ve lost,”  
“Losing and lost are not the same thing, your grace,” One of his men replied.  
“What can I do, Peterson, Pray tell? We are surrounded, barricaded into my own castle. I’ve had to send my daughter away, postpone my own wedding!” He threw a hand out carelessly to Regina but few men turned their heads, in any case none of them could see the figure standing behind her anyway. “If any man among you knows of anything that can save us please, speak now!”

“There is someone…” said a quiet voice from the corner. Several incredulous faces turned toward Regina- so many that Rumple had to double his efforts to remain unseen. The girl cleared her throat and sat up in her chair.  
“There is someone,” She repeated with more confidence. Leopold shot her a pitying look mixed with caution.  
“Regina, now is the not the time,” He muttered and it sounded like a father reprimanding his errant child.  
“No there is,” She countered, her temper flared by his condescendence. “A powerful practitioner of magic-”

“Regina,” Leopold snapped, his voice so sharp that a few of the men jumped. The king took two steps toward her and she shrank back into the chair. “You know how I feel about magic,” He spoke with his teeth clenched and vaguely Rumplestiltskin wondered if the kingdom’s people knew this side of their king. “I’ll thank you to keep your pretty mouth shut,” Obviously angered by this public humiliation her face turned crimson and she sat up slightly.  
“You’re losing, aren’t you?” She countered, “Are you not desperate? Surely if your kingdom can be saved by magic you will not turn down this opportunity because of a personal fear?” The king’s eyes flared and for a moment Rumple was sure he was going to strike her, but Regina stood her ground bravely.

“Your grace,” One of the men stepped forward, “Perhaps this magical being can save us,”  
“Yes, my king, perhaps magic is our only option,”  
“If it can save us…”  
“Let the magician be summoned, your grace,” His men began to pipe up. Leopold listened to them for a moment before raising his hand for silence. He shot Regina a seething glance before quietly muttering: “You can summon this mage?”

“Yes,” She muttered quietly, and Rumple wondered if she was beginning to regret her decision of calling him- the man who had halted her bid for freedom.  
“He can help us?”  
“I am sure of it,” He looked into her eyes for a moment before nodding.  
“Very well, you may summon him. But then you must leave- go to your bedchamber and wait for me there,” Rumple was close enough to feel the shiver that ran through her as, deep in her misery, she sat  up in her chair, closed her eyes and cleared her throat.

“Rumplestiltskin,” Her voice ran out across the hall and a hush fell.

Nothing.

“Rumplestiltskin?” She tried once more. She could undoubtedly feel everyone’s eyes on her. Rumple felt the call from within him despite being only inches away from her. He couldn’t resist causing her this small embarrassment.

Leopold leapt forward and seized her by the hair.  
“Next time you decide to interrupt a war counsel and waste our time be sure to make it something slightly more believable,” He growled as he dragged her to her feet, ignoring her hiss of pain. From his vantage point Rumplestiltskin could see tears gathering in her eyes, though whether they were caused by him, the pain or her own frustration he could not guess.

Everyone’s movements were halted by three sharp bangs on the door.

Leopold released Regina who fell but managed to catch herself before she hit the floor. Massaging her head, she payed nobody else any mind as she returned to her seat. The men however were in a flurry, each of them staring at the door which knocked once more.

“It’s him!” Someone announced.  
“It can’t be,”  
“How could he get past our barriers?”

“Open the door,” Leopold commanded authoritatively. Two of the guards moved forward and removed the barricade from the door and, upon their king’s command, swung open the grand oak. The corridor was, of course, deserted.

Lifting the cloaking spell from himself he was almost amused to find that nobody noticed him for a further few seconds until he spoke.  
“Well that was a bit of a let-down,” He said with humour and smiled to hear Regina inhale sharply beneath him. She didn’t turn to him, however, as all the other men did. She tensed instead and stared straight ahead, totally ignoring his presence. He leaned down until his face was resting just next to hers, so he could whisper in hear ear. “You called, dearie?” She didn’t respond to him beyond swallowing and attempting to control her breathing. He tortured her for a further few seconds before finally moving away and addressing the King.

“Let me guess: ‘Help! Help! We’re dying! Can you save us?” Leopold visibly bristled at this blow to his pride but didn’t comment. At his side Rumple heard a guard approaching silently, his sword drawn and poised to attack. “Well the answer is…” He flicked his wrist and the guard went flying. “Yes, I can,”

“Yes I can protect your little town…” He began to traipse amongst them, passing uncomfortably close to the king’s men, watching their faces as they tried desperately to get a closer look and simultaneously back away from him. They were all terrified of him, that much was clear. In most kingdoms magic was held with a certain disdain; a general fear which often surrounded the unknown. Yet nobody had ever seen anything like him before- half man, half beast. He revelled in their fascination as he approached the king and held out one beady finger.

“…For a price,”

Leopold seemed to consider him for a moment, obviously deciding whether or not to trust him; probably weighing up how desperate they actually were. Rumple sent a memory flowing into his mind of villages burning, civilians dying. Eventually it was the concocted image of Snow White being murdered that made the king turn pale and step forward.  
“We have gold,” He said hurriedly. Rumple shook his head.  
“No you see um, I uh… _make_ gold,”

He took a step forward so he was speaking directly to the king in hushed tones, though he ensured that everyone else in the room could hear everything that was being said.

“What I want,” He snarled, “Is something a bit more _special_ ,”

He hears the murmurs across the room as everyone marvels at the man who dare challenge the king- so dare tell him that his gold isn’t enough and make demands from him. Leopold himself is maintaining eye contact, a small smile on his face but Rumple can feel the suppressed rage hidden beneath his kind eyes. He enjoys pushing his buttons immensely.

But beyond all of his- the murmurs from the war counsel and the internal seething of the king- he can feel Regina’s blood run cold. He has called her special, of course he has, to tempt her and manipulate her. Much like Cora she responds readily to flattery and praise, and at the use of this particular word Regina’s heart stops. He’s not sure what she hopes to achieve by attempting to leave the room; it’s certainly not going to work and she must know that/ But perhaps not. Perhaps she believes she is either going to face the wrath of King Leopold or the wrath or Rumplestiltskin and she is evidently smart enough to make the sensible choice.

 _For all the good it’s going to do her_ , he thinks.

She sidles by most of the men totally unnoticed; every one of their gazes is set on Rumple and none of them notice her tiptoeing past them toward the open doors. He thinks to himself with a sad irony, had he been anyone else she might have got clean away; from the men, the castle, perhaps even the land. As it was she was the sole reason he was there and unfortunately escape was not an option.

“My price,” He said softly, “Is _her_ ,” he points at her where she stands- so near to the door he can taste freedom tantalizing her. She stops as every man turns toward her, staring in confusion at the frustration on her face paired with the unbridled glee on his. The king frowns heavily, though Rumple isn’t sure whether it’s at Regina for her quiet getaway stunt or at him for suggesting such a deal.

“No,” He says almost immediately, his voice grave. Rumplestiltskin, who had been expecting just that response, began to stalk away from him with rolling eyes, making his way towards the woman whose heart was beating so fast he could feel it on the other side of the room. “The young lady is engaged to me,” Leopold finishes, and though Rumple can’t see he knows that the King has just readied the guards- ready to shoot at him at a moment’s notice.  
“I wasn’t asking if she was _engaged_ ,” Rumple replied grandiosely, his hands illustrating his words, “I’m not looking for _love,_ ” He said the word in the most mocking tone he could conjure, his eyes staring fixedly at the woman who was rather pointedly avoiding his gaze and staring instead at her husband.

 _The lesser of two evils_ Rumple thinks with a small chuckle.

“I’m looking for a caretaker,” He continues “For my rather large estate,” He speaks with unusual pauses and irregular metre because he is aware of how much it bothers people, indeed when he turns once again to face the king (still strolling, now backwards, toward the paralysed Regina) he catches the man’s uncomfortable twitch. He doesn’t want her, of course. Leopold has found his young bride to be much more trouble than she was ever worth and would be glad to get rid of her. Rumple can see the truth in his eyes; how he is only marrying her for Snow’s sake, and of course to own that magnificent body.

He wonders vaguely about the age difference, and whether marrying a girl young enough to be his granddaughter bothers the old king at all but evidently it doesn’t- at least not in the way it bothers Regina. He catches the word ‘ _perverse_ ’ floating around her head and it makes him smile. By now she was eyeing up the door, wondering if it was too late for a dashing escape.

 _Don’t even think about it,_ he speaks directly into her mind, enjoying the way she shivers at the intrusion.

“It’s her, or no deal,”

“Get out,” Leopold replies instantly; obviously deciding he has had enough of the imp’s games. Rumple is getting rather tired too but when he catches the fury rising to the fore in Leopold’s head he can’t help but push. He raises a finger in warning and the small gesture aggravates the old king beyond belief. “Leave,” He bellows, ignoring the way several of his men jump and start at the volume of his voice.

“As you wish,” Rumple replies, turning back toward Regina who was still avoiding his gaze. He stalked toward her slowly and she looked imploringly at her husband Rumple wonders whether he’s going to have to intervene; surely sending an image of hr insolence into his head would just about do the trick when Leopold calls out for him to stop.

“No wait,” He says, and Rumple enjoys the way Regina’s stomach drops at his words. She had never presumed herself safe of course- she knew she was doomed from the moment he threw her from her horse- but she had begun to relax a little. He turned on heel abruptly, standing just inches in front of her. Leopold was looking at him and Rumple could hear the internal battle going on inside the old king’s head. He made an impatient clicking noise to hurry the King but only once he could see the deal was already struck.

“We will win?”  
“Of course,”  
“And you will never return,”  
“Never,”  
“And the rest of us will be safe?”  
“And sound, dearie,”

The deal was made, the King didn’t even need to murmur the words ‘ _take her’_ followed by an audible gasp around the room from several of the men.  
“Your grace,” A voice interrupted and Rumple had to admire her courage as Regina approached the king, who refused to meet her eye. “Your grace please,” She implored, “Don’t send me away with his beast,” Rumple gasped dramatically and resting a hand over his heart, feigning offence. She threw a glare in his general direction; he could feel the hatred and fear dancing a waltz inside of her and at the dark look he threw her she gulped and turned back to her fiancée.

Rumple couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in surprise as she fell to her knees and dropped her head.  
“Please, Leopold, my king,” She said quietly, her voice hitching. He didn’t need his magic to tell him she was faking; her innocence, her begging all a tool to convince the king.

And it was working.

 _The fucking bitch_ he thought malevolently as the beautiful damsel in distress at the king’s feet played to his sense of chivalry. He didn’t want her when she was loud and defiant but now; kneeling at his feet and entirely at his mercy, Leopold felt as entirely as empowered as Rumple himself would have.

He was torn between hatred for the woman who kept thwarting over and over and admiration for the vixen’s cunning. He might have waited to see how it would have played out if it wasn’t for the vindictive glance she threw at him over her shoulder when no one was looking. It was enough to send him into a fury much like he had been in before; a rage only she seemed to inspire in him.

He took quick strides toward her as the King finally met her eyes and stroked her cheek softly. She had even managed to squeeze out a tear and it both impressed and repulsed him. He seized her wrist and yanked her to her feet before the King could fully change his mind.  
“It’s too late,” he hissed as she stumbled and fell against him- into his arms. He couldn’t stop his reaction; his breath halted at the feel of her in his embrace but before he could fully drown in her she pulled away from him, yanking her arm in a futile attempt to get it out of his grip.  
“Get the fuck off me!” She yelled, and Rumple grinned as she sealed her fate.

He felt Leopold’s disdain at her base language and display of rebellion.  
“Go with him, Regina,” He said stoically. In fact not only had Regina failed to sway the king the other men in the room were now regarding her with a mix of scorn and disapproval. Rumple let out an obscene giggle and pulled her in once more- not close enough to be touching her though, he had learnt from that mistake. With her arm firmly in his grip he turned and bowed dramatically to the men of the court.

“Congratulations on your marvellous victory!” He called theatrically to them as he dragged her away; she was still resisting but he had used magic to keep her subdued, for the most part. Her rage was almost enough to halt him, and had he been removing her from any other situation he reasoned she would have succeeded in breaking his bonds and escaping.

He could have teleported them, of course, but he wanted her to feel the humiliation of literally being _dragged_ away. He would take her out of the castle and then transport them directly to his- after all it wouldn’t do for her to know the precise location of his home. She said nothing as they moved through hallways and along corridors toward the castle’s entrance. When they passed the wing where her bedchambers were kept she frowned at him in confusion.

“My things-”  
“What things?” He replied, refusing to look at her, “You don’t own any things anymore; I own _you_ and therefore _your_ things are now _my_ things,” He finished with another ridiculous giggle and they continued in silence, despite her rage threating to bubble over.

He was distracted, however, by her reaction to his words. ‘ _I own you_ ’; three words that had sent shivers running down her spine. She was, of course, horrified by his words. The idea of being ‘owned’ had plagued her for years in her childhood- her being but a possession of her mothers, to be shaped and moulded as Cora saw fit. But there was more to it than that.

It _excited_ her. It thrilled her, to think of him as her captor, her owner. Her _master_. The words were from her mind but he became attached to them rather quickly. Yes, he would have her call him that. He was her master and she was both repulsed and exhilarated by it. He felt drunk on his own power, even as he transported them to his home.

They arrived in the large ornate banquet hall, her stumbling slightly and falling against him. She bristled at the contact but not before he felt her heart quicken at their close proximity. Cursing her body for betraying her she straightened up and moved away from him, immersing herself in her surroundings. His home was grand, by all means. It had once belonged to a great king who had fallen to the whims of The Dark One, and now sat as a garden gnome in the castle grounds. Filled with various items collected and saved through his years, his house looked more like a pawn shop than somewhere to live. It was evident he needed help; a thick layer of dust ran across almost every surface and the windows were dirty and cloudy.

Regina surveyed the room with obvious curiosity, seeming to forget her host as she wandered around the hall, staring at each item in turn with renewed fascination. He watched her with an odd feeling in his stomach; like his soul was turned out for judgment and he found his insides soar each time she smiled at a small trinket or gadget dotted around the room.

He caught himself; she was not his guest, she was his slave and he would treat her as such. She was suddenly submerged in a cloud of smoke and it cleared to reveal her in a modest black dress, her hair pulled back from her face and held in place with a ribbon. It was such a far cry from her frivolous gowns and fancy updo’s that he was immediately struck by the difference in her. Her youth was accentuated instantly; he could see her meagre eighteen years take shape on her face as she turned to him with a glare that seemed so at place on her stark features that he had no desire to remove it.

He chuckled at her glare; she seemed to pay no attention to the change in her attire and instead opted to keep her gaze on him. The small act of desire sent a rush of anger flowing through him, but he suppressed it with difficulty. After all there was plenty of time for discipline. He studied her for a time, circling her to take it all in. She was skinny, but not overly so. He remembers the first time he was summoned to her, when she had a healthy roundness to her that he noticed was leaving, although whether it was through stress or simply growth he couldn’t tell. She held herself royally, with a poised posture that screamed of her heritage.

All ruined by the scowl that seemed permanently painted on her face. He stopped in front of her, turning his attention from her body to her face. She was beautiful, nobody could deny that. Not even years of emotional or physical abuse could alter her perfectly shaped aristocratic features- how lucky she was, in her youth and beauty. He _tssk_ ed and spun his finger, signalling her to turn. She didn’t respond to him beyond the narrowing of her eyes, and her stubbornness fuelled his temper. Before he had a chance to catch himself he had reached out and struck her across the face so hard she fell to a heap on the floor.

She picked herself up almost instantly, struggling to her feet despite the blood spilling down from her split lip. Almost impressed by her courage he balled his hand into a fist and struck her again- harder. This time it took her slightly longer to return to a standing position, and he noticed that she had an ugly purple bruise on the apple of her cheek to compliment the wound on her lip. She didn’t cry out, she didn’t make any sound beyond her haggard breathing. It seemed to him that she had entered a kind of headspace that she had evidently visited before.

He struck her once more- with a fist rather than an open hand and this time when she hit the floor she lay there. She was still conscious- he could tell that much- and had he hit her any softer she would have clambered to her feet once more. As it was he knew that his latest punch had left her too disorientated to discern up from down. He aimed a kick to her ribs that caused her to gasp and double up as he winded her. He kicked her again, and once more for good measure, and yet still she appeared virtually unaffected.

 _Cora has really done a number on her,_ he thought as he considered a different method to implicate punishment.

With a dark look at the girl lying helpless on the floor, he decided that this called for a very particular brand of magic. Part of the magic he received from becoming the Dark One included mild telepathy; he could discern people’s general thoughts and feelings, as well as plant visions and ideas into someone’s head. He used this with ease and almost unconsciously through his day to day life, however there was a more precise art known as _Memoria Furem_ \- direct access into someone’s mind. It allowed him access to thoughts, feelings, dreams and memories alike. If one was proficient enough, you could even alter the past and place visions of the future, he often used it to give someone a recurring nightmare.

He had learned it from a sorceress in Agrabah, who had attempted the manoeuvre on him before he had defeated her in a magical duel. The price had been her powers, and she had died shortly afterwards at his hand. He had kept her jewelled dagger as a reminder of the victory he had won and the power he had gained. He disliked using _Memoria Furem_ , however, as it was a messy and complicated process. The thing he enjoyed most about it though was that it left the victim feeling vulnerable and violated.

He stared down at Regina, cold and unmoving, and thought _desperate times call for desperate measures_.

Calling forth the magic he needed, he pushed into her mind.

_Jam was one of her favourite foods, and it seemed like a good idea at the time; she was practically starving after all, as mother only allowed her the most meagre portions, and she was almost sure she wouldn’t be caught._

_How wrong she was._

_She cowered behind Daddy, his larger figure easily hiding the six year old. She felt safe behind Daddy’s coat; like Mother’s harsh words and cruel magic couldn’t touch her. She sniffed quietly as she held the jar in her hands, her fingers sticky and covered in jam._   
_“Cora please, be reasonable,” Daddy was saying, “She’s but a child,”_   
_“Get out of the way, Henry,” Mother was using her scary voice. She only used her scary voice when Regina had been bad, but she was often bad so it was fast becoming commonplace._   
_“It’s only jam,”_   
_“Get out of the way Henry,”_   
_“Cora-”_

_Daddy’s words were cut off abruptly and Regina was instantly aware that something was wrong. Something in the air had shifted, and she resisted the urge to bury her head in Daddy’s coat and try to disappear; instead she dared to peak out from behind him._

_Mother was very, very angry. Her eyes were blazing in a way that sent Regina’s heart thumping and she was glaring at Daddy like she wanted to hurt him. Regina was sure she was hurting him, although she wasn’t touching him. She crept out a little further, just to try and get a better look at Daddy. He wasn’t moving at all; his eyes were darting around frantically but the rest of his body was entirely unmoving. He was definitely suffering- that much Regina could tell._

_Thinking only of saving Daddy she was seized by a sudden courage and she ran out at her mother with beating fists, pummelling futilely on her mother’s skirt._   
_“Stop it Mother!” She bellowed dramatically, “Stop hurting Daddy!” She felt herself being lifted off the floor although she knew it wasn’t by Mother, because she had drawn back. Behind her Regina heard Daddy gasping for breath dramatically. Almost as soon as her father had been saved her own bonds began to tighten around her tiny chest; squeezing her so hard it hurt. She wriggled against what was holding her- vines, she thinks- and kicked out as she turned imploringly to her father._   
_“Daddy help me!” She cried out as the vines pulled her legs taut, not stopping but continuing to stretch her until she was in agony. “Daddy PLEASE!” She screamed as pain ripped through her._

_“Get out, Henry,” Her mother hissed but Regina payed no notice as she beseeched her father once more- screaming and crying and trying to wriggle free. She caught her father’s three words as he left the room with a guilty look on his face._   
_“I’m sorry baby,”_

_She cried out once he had left her, her breath hitching on a tiny sob that would have shaken her body had she been able to move at all. She couldn’t focus on Mother, who had moved forward close enough to wipe a tear from under her eyes._   
_“Highborn ladies do not cry, Regina, it is beneath them,” She says, and although she isn’t shouting she can be easily heard above her child’s cries “If you cry at all, which I assure you you will not, it will be when you are alone in your room”_

_The bonds don’t loosen and Regina’s vision begins to blur; the pain is too much for her small body to take and she is sure she’s going to pass out._   
_“Moreover,” Mother continues, “When do we eat Regina?” the child doesn’t answer- too absorbed in her agony to focus on anything but the vines threatening to tear her limb from limb. “Answer me,” Mother reprimands sharply as everything tightens for a dangerous second and Regina lets out a scream so shrill the glass of the windows splinters._   
_“A-at meal times,” She cries, trying desperately to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks._

_“Do we steal from the larder in between meal times?”_   
_“N- no Mother,”_   
_“Do we eat jam out of the jar like greedy little urchins?”_   
_“No Mother,”_   
_“What do you say to me, Regina?”_

_She spits out the words just as blackness envelops her._  
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Her vision fades entirely and she feels herself fallin _g to the ground, the last image stuck in her mind her mother standing over her, a satisfied smile painted onto her face._

Almost immediately he seizes another memory, this one much more recent.

_“I’m so sorry,” she says hurriedly as she reaches the hill’s peak “I had to_

_recite practically the entire poem to her before she let me go; in all honesty I was worried she wouldn’t let me go at all-”  
“Hush” Interrupted another voice, and the young man stepped forward and enveloped her into his arms before she could utter another word. “It’s okay I know the rule- if you don’t show up, she’s either keeping you or she’s discovered _ us _and I need to get away as fast as I can,”_

_Neither of them speaks the truth; that if they are discovered there is nowhere they can run that she won’t find him and torture him mercilessly. Regina allows herself to sink into the safety of his arms, the haven that he has become. He completely envelops her in his embrace and all of the fear, the worry, just melts away like it was never there to begin with. It reminds her why they still do this despite the risk._

_This is love, she is sure of it. She feels for Daniel in a way that she never has before for anyone else- she loves Daddy, of course, but Daddy doesn’t make her feel safe the way Daniel does. When she’s with him she feels untouchable; untouched. She feels out of reach of magic or lessons and it is bliss._

_They settle down underneath the apple tree, Daniel produces two apples and asks her teasingly to recite the poem she had been learning. In response she throws her apple at him, just not hard enough to hurt and pouts until he climbs to get her a new one.  
“You’re far too spoiled, _ your majesty _,” He chuckles and she rolls her eyes at him; for some reason she doesn’t mind it when he brings up her heritage, even though it used to make her feel alienated from him. Away from the castle they are equals, and it used to bother her when he reminded her of their differences. Until he pointed out to her that it was the contrast between them that made their relationship all the more potent._

_She crawls across the long grass to where he sits, resting up next to him and laying her head on his chest. He pulls his arm up to stroke on her soft wavy hair, humming a tune that she does not recognise. When they’re together they forget about Cora and the ever-looming threat of discovery. The rest of the world seems so far from the pair of them, living on their own island on the top of a hill under an apple tree._

Rumple withdrew from her mind with nothing more than a deep breath. He felt exhausted; _Memoria Furem_ nearly always used up his energy and he just wanted to retreat to his spinning wheel, but he knew he had to deal with Regina first. He reflected upon the memories he had recently occupied,  Cora’s traumatising parenting and Regina looking the most at-ease he had ever seen her. Undoubtedly he would visit more, but what interested him most of all was her reaction to food. Stealing jam, throwing away the apple. Nothing made sense.

Regina was lying on the floor, gasping and retching at the intrusion, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed and gasped for breath. He wondered vaguely if she was going to be sick, but she closed her eyes and controlled herself until she had stopped gagging and had begun to calm. The tears she had held back for so long were running down her face unbidden, her small frame heaving with heavy sobs that left her gasping for breath.

Once she had calmed down enough she seemed to realise he was still in the room, but the look she gave him was nearly entirely pure terror- he had to search her eyes hard to locate the contempt he was sure was still lurking. He was too exhausted from his foray into her mind to taunt her now, and she lay broken on the floor, so instead he moved forward, until he was towering directly above her.

“You room is in the servants’ attic; you will go there now and wait for me to further instruct you. Do not attempt to leave, I have cast curses upon these walls and you will be killed brutally and instantly should you attempt to escape. Do not attempt to leave your room before I arrive; I promise you, dearie, the consequences would be most dire for you and rather… _illuminating_ for me,”

He was, of course, threatening to re-enter her mind and the thought turned her a sickly shade of green. In truth he didn’t have the energy to penetrate her thoughts again; her mind was a busy and dark place that he didn’t have the patience to navigate at the moment. He moved to leave, the heels of his boots echoing as they hit the floor. He reached the door and paused, turning slightly to look at her. She was clutching her head desperately, and he wondered if her reaction wasn’t a little extreme; by all means people reacted in a similar way to _Memoria Furem,_ it was unpleasant and intrusive, but he had never seen someone react quite so radically.

“Do not disobey me, Regina,” He called across the room to her, but she refused to meet his gaze. Exhausted, he left the room, leaving his new slave at home in her prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if there are any mistakes; i'm too impatient to proof-read my own work.  
> 'Memoria Furem' is literally just Latin for memory thief, and it's supposed to mimic Legilimency from Harry Potter I guess, except it's a super uncomfortable intrusion.


	3. A Very Painful Lesson or Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumple goes really dark in this one, (dark-one pun intended) like i didn't intend for him to get this fucked up I don't know what happened. Trigger warning as there is a LOT of violence, also don't know how that happened. As per I haven't got the patience to proof-read so I apologise for any stupid mistakes

He left her there or two whole days.

Unsurprisingly she made no attempt to leave; there was nowhere for her to go even if she didn’t manage to escape and he got the feeling that her spell with the memory thief had left her more rattled than she would ever admit. He spun gold for nearly two days straight, paying no mind to the passing time or to the girl stuck in his house. Truth be told he might have left her there for longer had he not remembered that he had brought her there for a reason, and he really was in need of a housekeeper.

As he mounted the stairs toward the attic he pondered over what state he would find her in; physically and mentally. Most of all he wondered what her reaction to him would be. It was very obvious to him that she hated him with every bone in her body, and yet they were tied to each other by fate. He wondered, had she had accepted the book and his teaching, how different their dynamic would have been. He doubted in any case that she would be trapped in his attic.

It was also clear that she feared him, although to what extent he wasn’t sure. If she was foolish enough to test her boundaries- to push him at all- he would make sure she faced the consequences. So, she had some kind of resilience to certain varieties of pain? He knew so many creative ways to maim and torture. He guessed that this experience would be more fun for him than he had originally predicted.

He reached the fragile wooden door that separated her alcove from the rest of the world and paused. She couldn’t hear him, he was sure of that, and he suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to view her in stasis; to catch her unawares. Placing his scaled hand onto the door it melted from his view, revealing to him the scene beyond.

Regina looked terrible. Two days of no food and no sleep had clearly taken its toll; her hair was greasy and matted, and he could see that she had attempted to plait it and tied it off with a thread from her dress however her plait was messy and tumbling out of its confines with reckless abandon. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, he hadn’t anticipated so much crying from her seeing as she was so staunch against shedding a tear. The dress she was wearing was grimy and needed cleaning, much like the rest of her.

He had expected her to be sleeping perhaps, or sitting in a corner snivelling and wallowing in her own self-pity. He was not expecting her to be humming softly to herself. She was sitting upright on the bed and her hands were cupped in front of her; he couldn’t see between them and his curiosity burned as he wondered what she was doing. Whatever it was clearly pleased her, as her features spread into a satisfied smile that he immediately yearned to wipe off her face.

Withdrawing his hand, the door came back into focus and he allowed her no time to adjust as he threw the door opened and revealed himself. She was startled enough to let out a noise akin to a squeak and her hands clasped together instantly, hiding whatever she had been fiddling with from his view. Her face briefly showed guilt before her eyes flew to the bed beneath her and features sank into a muted scowl.

“Hello, Regina,” He greeted, rolling the ‘R’ of her name. She didn’t respond to him, but he merely raised an eyebrow and ignored her silence, wandering around her tiny room. There was a window but he had covered it completely, meaning that day and night became unclear. He doubted that she had any idea how long he had left her there to rot; her groaning stomach and growing thirst the only signs of passing time.

He drew up by the side of her bed and stared down at her, watching her chest rise and fall rhythmically. He wondered how long they would stay there, in silence, before she reacted to him or acknowledged him at all. He cleared his throat noisily and she looked up at him, her wide innocent eyes staring into his own. He could feel how hard she was pushing for nonchalance; how she longed to glare at him and lash out and scratch his eyes out with her nails.

He lifted a finger slowly and was satisfied to catch a glimmer of fear in her eyes at her responding flinch. With slow, elongated movements, he pointed towards her clasped hands.  
“What,” He asked, “Is that?”

She didn’t answer him, but then again he didn’t expect her to. She continued to stare, although he noticed she was trembling slightly. He raised his eyebrows when she did not reply and let out a dramatic sigh. “I asked you a question, Regina. Didn’t Cora ever teach you it’s rude to ignore people?” Her eyes flashed at the mention of her mother, as he knew they would. In that brief second he saw her anger and pain and grief and relief, but just as soon as it came it had gone. She cleared her throat, but when she spoke nothing came out but a soft croak. Whether he really scared her into silence or if it was because she was unused to speaking he wasn’t sure, but in any case she tried again and replied to him in a clear, low voice.

“Nothing,”  
“Nothing _master_ ,”

Her eyes, which had drifted back to the bedspread snapped back to him at an alarming speed as her mouth fell open in horror. He could read her thoughts; her call him master? Him, who held no claim over her beyond a kidnapping? He stopped himself from reminding her that she had been given to him, and had therefore become nothing more than his possession, but despite biting his tongue he could feel the familiar rage burning inside him.

“Nothing, Master,” She conceded, the word spat out reluctantly between gritted teeth. Her submission, however reluctant, brought a smile to his face and alleviated the simmering temper that had been building. He let out a ridiculous giggle and leaned forward until his face was mere inches from hers.  
“Well in that case, you won’t mind showing me?”

Her heart rate increased massively and he could sense her panic; he drank it in like wine. Whatever it was was clearly warrant for punishment, and as her mind flashed back to her brief encounter with _Memoria Furem_ he sent her way thoughts of other forms of torture; paranoia, playing on her empathy, public humiliation or even private humiliation for that matter. He was dying to burst he pride like he might a bubble of soap. Her mind raced as she tried to think of an escape.

And then suddenly, she was calm. He frowned as he sensed the change in her; her breathing returned to normal and he could even see the hint of a smile playing on her lips. She blinked and took a deep breath in, before parting her hands. He peered eagerly over her shoulder and had to stop himself from roaring in rage when she revealed the empty space between her hands.

The anger which had dissipated so quickly returned to him full force; before he could stop himself he reached out and seized her hand, bending her fingers backwards until her cry of pain became a scream of agony and he felt something _pop_. When he released her she let out a moan of pain as her fingers fell forward- each of them snapped like a twig. She bit her lip and held back tears as she steeled herself to face the pain full on as wave after wave washed over her.

He himself had begun to calm, when his mind snapped back into focus and he caught sight of her disfigured hand he winced. She deserved it, of course, and frankly it was refreshing to see she wasn’t immune to all kinds of pain. He wondered how punches and slaps had no effect when broken bones did.

He might have left her there once again, to nurse broken fingers on an empty stomach, had he not remembered his reason for visiting her in the first place. Deciding that she could be rewarded for holding back her scowl and calling him Master he fixed all of her fingers with one wave of his hand.

The pain didn’t go away immediately; he could tell from the glazed look in her eyes when she dared to glance up at him that she was still feeling aftershocks. However she bore the pain well as he ordered her to stand. The bruises he had inflicted two days earlier were healing well despite her malnourishment, and even her split lip was a lot less stark. Her hand was shaking uncontrollably- probably still feeling the aftermath of trauma- however he reasoned it would cease soon and either way it wouldn’t be enough to stop her from cleaning.

“Now,” He began, his voice bright and cheery, “I have brought you here for a reason! You are to be my housekeeper; to clean my humble abode regularly and to my _satisfaction_ ,” He paused, labouring the last word and watching her for some kind of reaction. “In addition to this there are of course regular duties to be upheld such as catering, doing the laundry and such. As I have previously stated you are unable to set a foot outside the castle, unless you want to lose the foot,” He giggled so loudly she jumped “And your life, dearie,”

“You shall live here, you shall not disturb me and should I call you you must appear immediately. You know already that you should address me as Master. I expect you to complete these tasks swiftly and competently, and should you slack at all or disobey me I will have to instil a very painful lesson do you understand me?”

He watched her unmoving face as he felt her emotions flicker. He knew that eventually she would see the futility of resistance, but she was still young and lusty and would not submit to him without a fight. To his surprise however, she nodded slowly.  
“Yes, Master,”

In reward he waved his hand and she was enveloped in a puff of smoke; when it had cleared her dress was clean as was she; her hair was washed and pulled back by a lace ribbon he had tied into a bow. Her hand had stopped shaking and the bruises in her face had all but disappeared. With an annoyed frown he realised that a slim scar had remained on her upper lip but he paid it little mind as he was once again struck by her beauty. She was eighteen, maybe nineteen, and held a maturity that wasn’t marred by her innocence. It made him grin to think of him snatching her from a celebrated King.

She was startled by the sudden change in her appearance; her reaction to magic surprised him, as if she wasn’t used to its constant influence. She fidgeted, obviously adjusting to feeling clean, until a light cough from him made her jump and cast her eyes down to the floor.  
“Well,” He prompted, “The floors aren’t going to scrub themselves, dearie,”

He watched her scuttle out of the room with a sense of appeasement. She would undoubtedly struggle- he doubted she had ever cleaned something in her life or ever cooked a meal for herself. She had grown up surrounded by willing and terrified servants, so there was never any need for her to learn anything other than posture and etiquette.

As soon as her footsteps were completely out of earshot, and he figured her to be at least two floors down, he began to search her room. His curiosity was peaked; something had definitely been in her hand, but how had he not seen it? How had he hidden it? He explored the bed, subduing the thrill that ran through him as he felt her body heat rising off the sheets. There were no holes in the linen; nothing sewed into the flimsy mattress or hidden in the duvet.

Without further ado he moved on the rest of the room. For the most part it was practically empty, besides creaking floorboards and rodents it held a large wooden chest that looked like something from a children’s fable, which Regina had draped a blanket over and he guessed was using it as a chair. He looked inside the box and moved on, satisfied that it was empty before he caught himself. It wasn’t empty at all; at the very bottom of the box covered in a thin layer of dust was a slim band of silver. _Her engagement ring_ , he realised with lucidity, reaching down and plucking it out of the box. He blew off the dust and buffed it against his sleeve; it was pure silver and held a dazzling purple Amethyst. The colour would no doubt compliment her pale skin and dark eyes, and he found himself yearning to see her wear it.

 _It seems Leopold got something right_ he thought to himself as he replaced the ring, closed the chest and moved on.

He searched the dingy attic from top to bottom but discover nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary. It surprised him that she had managed to make such a mark on the room having only been there for two measly days; every corner was free of dirt and grime and she had discovered a store of blankets which she had used as decoration- rugs for the floor and throws for the walls. He admired her spirit as lesser people might have broken down. He had expected an escape attempt, or for her to break down, or for her anger to take over and completely trash the place. Instead she seemed to have found a place of calm, and it irked him that he didn’t know the cause of her apparent spiritual rebirth.

He decided to leave her alone for the time being; he wanted to her to have some chance of completing the household tasks after all. Instead he moved to the main hall, where he had tortured her just days before. He hadn’t used the room since but he discovered it mostly unchanged, despite a thin layer of dust resting on nearly all surfaces. It wouldn’t be an issue, of course, once she had settled into her new role. He seized a rather hefty spell book from one of the shelves adorning the room and settled in an armchair to read.

He was so enraptured in the foreign enchantments that he almost didn’t notice her enter the room. He sensed her as soon as she crossed the threshold, however due to the general clutter of the room she failed to spot him, silent and unmoving in his seat in the corner. She crossed the room slowly and ran a finger along the shelves, frowning at the dirt and dust that came off. With a sigh she dropped the bucket she was carrying and seized a cloth from its bubbled depths, starting in the corner and lifting each artefact one by one from the shelves to be cleaned and dried.

No matter how many items she picked up to clean her sense of fascination never seemed to dull. She would study each new object with eager rapt, turning it over in her hands and exploring it. If it was a book she would use a dry cloth to dust it lightly before opening it to look inside- he knew half of the languages and symbols were complete gibberish to her, and yet she still seemed to enjoy turning the pages.

With the more peculiar objects, such as a sewing machine or golden candelabra, she would stare at the decoration as she cleaned it of murk, smiling when she discovered something new and frowning when she didn’t understand others. It really was entertaining to watch her; when she was alone and relaxed her face was so amazingly expressive that he could tell her emotions almost before she felt them.

When she had nearly finished the shelves on that side of the room she reached a large clear cylinder, free of all dust and dirt that infected the rest of the room. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion as she stared straight through the object, and Rumple knew that she, like many others, felt the wild urge to reach out and take it. He would let her, if she did give into temptation and seize the object. He would let her and watch her as her hand burst into flames in front of her eyes, and if she was lucky he would regrow it for her painfully overnight.

She reached out a tentative hand and stopped just inches away from the cylinder, curling her fingers as she fought with herself. Eventually he saw her close her eyes and steel herself, and when she opened them again her hand dropped and he knew that all desire to take the object had left her.

For the first time since she had entered the room, his interest was piqued. He had seen great men fall to that cylinder; heroes and peasants alike had taken it and suffered the consequences. How, then, had his servant resisted its call? He almost felt alarmed; he knew that she had great potential -If she didn’t she wouldn’t be there- but not enough to fight powers such as these (sometimes Rumple himself felt the impulse, and he kept it there to constantly challenge himself and to prove his immeasurable power).

She moved on to the final item on the shelves; a golden porcelain tile full of patterns and ornate drawings. In the centre a circle was carved, with a small arch which acted as a handle. He was almost tempted to let her turn it but he knew that this was not her resisting a higher power; this was just her innocent curiosity which was going to get her killed. He waited until her hand was on the gold before stopping her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, dearie,”

She gasped dramatically and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline as her eyes widened in horror and fear. The tile fell from her grasp in one swift movement and missed the edge of the carpet, landing on the wooden floorboards with a dramatic _smash_. Her hands immediately began to tremble and she reached down to seize it; her realisation that he had been there the whole time instantly overpowered by her horror that she had just broken the tile. She stayed on her knees, too afraid to rise as she noticed the chip in the porcelain, and she scrambled on the floor to find the missing piece.

He rose to his feet slowly and approached her as she began to stutter.  
“I’m so sorry Master- it was an accident I was startled- I’m sure I can fix it- I didn’t mean to break it,” She stammered on as he reached her, looking down at her with a passive expression. Eventually she dared raise her eyes to his, and the fright in her deep brown orbs made him smile.  
“Not to worry,” He announced dramatically, snatching the tile from her hands and examining the damage. It was beyond repair; he wasn’t sure whether it would affect the tile’s function but he hadn’t used it in years and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He tried to reassure her with a comforting smile but it would not come. Instead he found himself watching her face for signs of comfort or relief. She had drawn her eyes away from his but she looked up at him once he took the tile from her grasp and she let out a deep breath at his response. He felt his mood darken instantly; how dare she. She, whom he brought to the house to be a help not a hindrance. She had destroyed an artefact he had procured through a particularly strenuous deal that had left him without a summoning spell for quite some time.

And yet here she was, kneeling on the floors she was yet to clean, holding the piece she had broken almost _triumphantly_. Yes- he was sure she had meant to break it, as revenge for being hurt by him. His eyes flashed dangerously and his grip on the tile increased until his knuckles went white. She must have sensed the change in in because she frowned in confusion and she tried to shrink back away from him, however she wasn’t quick enough.

He seized her jaw in his scaly hand and squeezed until she let out a whimper of pain, which only seemed to anger him further. It was as if she was asking for mercy; as if by crying out in pain she expected him to feel guilty and release her. Well she had marred his artefact and now he was going to mar her in return. Without preamp he withdrew his arm and smashed his fist into her face. Twice.

He released her immediately and staggered back to review his handiwork. Blood was streaming from her nose in copious amounts and she swayed slightly, as if she was going to faint. She let out a low groan that she stifled instantly, her hand moving to catch the blood before it dripped onto the carpet. Her face was turning a curious shade of purple and she had to sink to the floor to stop herself from falling as she clutched at her bloody nose and tried to breathe through her mouth without swallowing the blood. To him it was almost a comedic sight.

Almost instantly, he began to calm. Watching her struggle to contain tears as even attempting to staunch her bleeding noise aggravated the livid bruises on her face, he felt a surge of something that could have been guilt. He checked himself instantly however, forcing down any pity he felt for her as he stood back and held up the porcelain tile to really survey the damage she had done. In all honesty it was irreparable at all, and certainly not enough to warrant a broken nose, but the damage was done now and he hadn’t earned his notoriety by playing nice.

He turned his attention back to his bleeding servant and with a reserved sigh he snapped his fingers. Her nose was still broken, he was sure of it, although the bleeding had stopped and it wasn’t swollen at all considering the bruising she had sustained around her face- atop her rapidly healing bruises from days before. Her face was his canvas, he mused, to paint reds and blues and purples galore. He was sure they would fade much sooner than normal, however, with his magical enhancements.

Before he was really sure what he was doing, he was speaking to her.  
“On the third floor in the South Wing you will find my laboratory. In the large oak cabinet on the bottom shelf there is a deep red stone that appears to glow. Dissolve it into water and wash your face and the bruises should disappear,” He barked out matter-of-factly, knowing he would not repeat these instructions but she was drinking in his every word. She regarded him warily- as naturally she would considering he had just smashed her face in and then attempted to heal it instantly.

“Do not touch anything else, Regina,” He added, his voice a lot more airy and fantastical as per usual. She seemed to relax at his usual animated tone “There will be consequences,” He added, casting a silent spell which meant that any other items would burn her hand severely, and serve her right too. She nodded and picked herself up off the floor- he could almost bring himself to admire her fortitude- stopping before she turned away from him. He was holding her in her place, of course, waiting for her. Trying to cue her into saying what he wanted to hear.

“ _What do you say?_ ” He sang in condescending tones. Regina bristled at his song and turned to him, not daring to raise her eyes to his lest she release the glare he could tell she was desperately trying to contain.   
“Thank you, Master,” she hissed malevolently through gritted teeth, and although he raised an eyebrow he didn’t comment on her coldness. Instead he let her leave.

What was it about her that fired him up so? She seemed to anger him into a rage he had never felt before, until he felt the uncontrollable urge to strangle her to death, and then instantly to bring her back to life and apologise. The latter feeling would have to be dealt with; he was The _Dark_ One, not ‘The _Slightly Apologetic_ One. He wondered at himself; his seething fury at war with his affection for her. It was so confusing he found himself empathising with Cora.

He replaced the tile in its place on the shelf and looked around himself, studying the room. He had caught the thought drifting from her mind the second she had entered the grandiose hall; it had potential, but the overall clutter made it look like a pawn shop. Of course, he valued all his procured artefacts and had no desire to rid himself of them, however perhaps it was about time he thought about storage. He had brought his housekeeper into a minefield; he himself knew which items to hold and touch, and which ones would suck your soul straight out of your body if you blinked while looking at them. He knew which were voice activated, which ones held poltergeists and which were useless keepsakes. He knew the alive items from the inanimate.

Regina, however, didn’t stand a chance. She could dust an item and accidentally set off an explosion in a faraway kingdom or release a bloodthirsty spirit. Without his guidance she would be dead within the week, and he couldn’t stay glued to her side- it would make the idea of having a servant to give him time completely obsolete. No, something needed to be done.

It was not a question of whether or not he could enchant every object in his mansion, but rather a question of which enchantment would be most suitable. He did not wish to empower her, but nor did he want his hidden curses revealed to all of his house guests. In his head he crafted the magic- a spell whereby dangerous objects would be visible to Regina, but appear completely plain and uninteresting. She would have no desire to look, touch or hold them, in fact the idea of holding any kind of contact with them appeared ludicrous to her. He cast it with no more than a flicker of his hand, and upstairs he sensed her moving away instantly from a pair of enchanted scissors which would have rid her of her sense of smell entirely.

 

* * *

 

 

“This looks unappetising,” He said with distaste, using a fork to poke around the meat on the plate she had just placed in front of him. She didn’t respond to him, instead she filled his glass with what she assumed was a rich red wine before stepping back. “I can’t even recognise it,” He added, chewing over a chunk of meat in his mouth and pulling dramatic faces. Again she didn’t rise to the bait, though he was sure his comments were aggravating her.

In all honesty he had expected much worse from a girl who had probably never cooked in her life. The chicken was charred slightly but still edible, perhaps even tasty. Alongside it she had served him sliced potatoes and several vegetables that were undercooked, but that might have been her intention as they still held their crunch. He was almost impressed by her culinary skills, and purely because of her effort that he relented and stopped antagonising her.

She moved to leave, but he found himself calling out for her to stop. He wasn’t sure why at first, but looking down the large empty table it seemed stupid for him to eat alone while she sat in the kitchens.  
“Join me,” He insisted, and at a wave of his hand a chair was pulled out for her. He was sure she would dare not refuse, however the longer she stood there in silence the more agitated he became. “Regina, I insist,” He commanded. “Where is your meal? I shall summon it,” Her eyes stared at her boots as she made no acknowledgment that she could even hear him. He felt his temper rise once more, and he caught the thought drifting around her head. “You haven’t made yourself anything,” It wasn’t a question and with a sigh he duplicated his meal (with slightly less, of course) for her. She continued to ignore him.

“Regina I will not tell you again,” He barked and she obviously recognised the signs of his anger as she flicked her eyes up to his and cleared her throat.  
“No thank you,” She replied quietly, turning to shuffle away. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched it, ignoring her stifled cry of pain.  
“Do not refuse me,” He warned, his voice becoming less animated and more cold; he could feel the fear rising in her as her arm began to tremble in his grasp. This time she didn’t respond beyond shaking her head. He twisted her arm further until it was close to snapping, gritting his teeth as she let out another cry and moved into him rather than pulling away to try and alleviate some of the pressure.

“You don’t want to eat with me? Fine! You won’t eat at all!” He spat. Her lack of reaction angered him further, and he held her in place until he was sure she would beg for mercy. She didn’t however, not even when he pushed her arm so far he was sure the pain would be enough to finish her off. With a grunt of anger he threw her across the room, and she smashed into a glass cabinet against the wall, the panes shattering and cutting her arms and face where she fell. His breathing began to calm, and he returned to his meal without further ado.

In the corner Regina picked herself up onto shaky feet. Raising her arm and studying the shards of glass penetrating her skin she let out a barely audible whimper, looking up at him with supressed anger completely overtaken by her intense fear. He glanced over at her and rolled his eyes, waving his hand so that a bowl and a cloth appeared at her feet in a cloud of smoke.  
“Put all the glass in there,” He ordered, “And use that to clear away the mess,”

By ‘the mess’ he was of course referring to the copious amounts of blood that left her as she began to pick out slivers of glass from her arm, which was also sporting vicious red welts where he had twisted. She bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out in pain, particularly as she removed some larger pieces that had cut her dangerously deeply.

He ate his meal quite happily enjoying the show; even going so far as to turn his chair so he had a better view of her. He felt no remorse at causing her so much pain- perhaps in future she would think twice before denying him. She didn’t seem to realise that she was _his_ now, his servant, his slave. She couldn’t refuse him anything as she had nothing to give; everything that was hers was now his by right. It angered him inexplicably that she did not seem to grasp this.

He waited until she had seized every piece of glass off the hardwood floorboards and picked all off the shards from her skin before addressing her. With another wave of his hands the glass had vanished along with the bowl, and when she turned she saw he had replaced the panel back in the cabinet.  
“I hope this has been a lesson to you, Regina,” He reprimanded in a sing-song voice. She stared at the floor and shook, some of her wounds still bleeding slightly. “Do not attempt to deny me anything; you have a lot to lose and nothing at all to gain from being stubborn. _Do I make myself clear?”_

She raised her eyes to his and he saw her; through her eyes he was led straight to her thoughts and he didn’t even have to employ _Memoria Furem_ to catch the recollection. Without the memory thief however it was faded and blurry; he could make out Cora standing over an adolescent Regina, her face calm with fury etched into the creases of her face. Beneath her Regina was biting her lip, tears drying on her cheeks with her head bowed so Mother wouldn’t catch sigh of them.  
“Regina,” Cora began, her voice distorted in the fuzzy memory, “Do not attempt to hide things from me again; there is nothing to gain from being sneaky or stubborn. Do I make myself clear?”

Regina shifted uncomfortably in front of him, completely unaware that he had just seen the memory flashing through her head. He raised his eyebrows expectantly to prompt a response from her, and she straightened up and snapped herself back to reality.  
“Yes Mother,” She remarked, her face turning a deep shade of scarlet as she realised her mistake. “Yes Master,” She corrected quietly, her eyes returning to her feet.

She obviously feared that she had set off his temper once more, however her blunder had sent him deep into his thoughts and he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She scurried out of the room at lightning speed, and Rumplestiltskin sat back in his chair and considered the events that had just taken place. Had he become Cora? Certainly in her mind he had taken over her place of domineering cruel controller of her life, however she had loved her mother. Despite all the cruelty and horror Regina had shared moments with the woman, and besides that they shared a bond that Rumple could never replicate. Maternity was a curiously unattainable thing, rendering even the most horrific of abuse null and void in terms of love.

And yet Rumple also shared a bond with her; they were tied by fate, although she did not know it. Had he kept his temper when she had refused him that day and she escaped her prison they might still be standing her now; they might be living in a faraway kingdom but undoubtedly they would have ended up together no matter what. She was tied to him in a way she wasn’t with her mother; and in any case she had rid herself of her mother through his help, and there was no resource on the planet that could rid her of him.

He never forgot his end goal- he never forgot his son, trapped in a land without magic- however this means to an end was fast becoming a means herself. Regina saw him as she had once seen Cora, however he was something new. Alongside the malice of Cora there was love, whereas alongside his malice and cruelty was intrigue and chemistry neither of them could deny. He knew that when he entered the room and her breath was snatched from her it was only partly through fear. He knew, back when he had first revealed himself to her, a great number of images and fantasies had flashed through her teenage mind. He knew the effect he had on her, and he revelled in it.

He would have to establish himself as a force to be reckoned with; Cora had had eighteen years to make her mark on a child where Rumple now had a few short months to make his mark on a young lady. He wanted her wary of him, he wanted her fearful of him, but he also didn’t forget why had brought her there in the first place. He would teach her magic whether she wanted to learn, and he would break her down in the meantime until she was nothing but his fucked up little doll.

With a wave of his hand the cloth she had used to clear up her blood appeared. He brought it to his face, inhaling her scent with closed eyes. Ignoring his half eaten meal, he took the cloth into his mouth and tasted her blood, grinning at the rich coppery tang.

Regina had no idea what was in store for her, and he had no idea what lay ahead for both of them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't a lot of Regina coming through yet, but it's just because she's all nervy I guess, they're both just adjusting the real fun starts next chapter


End file.
